


It Happened One Night...

by jules1278, orphan_account



Category: Glee
Genre: F/M, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-04
Updated: 2012-02-04
Packaged: 2017-10-30 14:57:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jules1278/pseuds/jules1278, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Co-Written with Jules1278. </p><p>It's just your typical Friday Night in Lima, OH.  This is our take on some of New Directions rallying around two of their friends who are hurting in the aftermath of Human Nature. (Spoilers for 3x11 Michael)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Slumber Party

**Author's Note:**

> This story ballooned from an idea that Jules thought up on our mutual commutes home from work. It's dedicated to Sam's earnest face, Mercedes' heart, Finn's never-ending endearing qualities, Puck's puns, Kurt's wisdom and Rachel's pretty pretty princess phone. Honorable mention goes to text messages, batting cages, singing into a hair brush, Sir Elton, and Caller ID.

They’d been having these Friday night sleepovers for some time now. It wasn’t something that happened every week or every other week, but they got together when they could. The Berrys’ house was the easiest - no bratty sibs, and yes, Finn counted - and the best decorated. Mercedes Jones walked out of Rachel’s bathroom in her sock monkey jammies and flopped on Rachel’s bed.

“Rachel, if you play Belinda Carlisle again I’m gonna scream. No. Love. Songs.”

“Got it,” Rachel said, sliding off the bed. She winked at Kurt, and Mercedes inwardly groaned. The sounds of REM’s ‘Losing My Religion’ came out of the vintage record player and Mercedes sat up. Grabbing a pillow from the head of the bed, she aimed only to have Kurt snap it out of her hands.

“What? Come _on_. ‘Losing My Religion,’ seriously?”

Rachel pouted with her hands on her hips. “It worked when Brenda Walsh and Dylan McKay broke up on 90210.”

Kurt placed the pillow back where it belonged and nudged Rachel over.

“Since I am the only one in this group not currently experiencing heartache of any kind, other than missing Blaine, I’ll choose the record.” He turned and then spun back around pointing. “And no more Nick at Nite for you, Rachel.”

“It was SoapNet,” Rachel sulked.

“Gimme that pillow, Rach.”

“Why?”

“I feel like suffocating myself.”

Kurt tutted at her and Mercedes wanted to flip him the bird, but as that wasn’t ladylike or constructive she opted for leaning over, grabbing the pillow, and hugging it to her chest. 

Rachel leaned over to the record player and raised an eyebrow.

“Maybe we should concentrate on practicing for Regionals?”

Kurt shook his head. “No. Now, scoot. I get song choice. And I think that we’ll have plenty of time to practice with the whole club, but now is the time for us to grab our favorite hairbrush microphones and let loose a little!”

He flicked quickly through Rachel’s collection muttering to himself.

“No, no, too old, too new, we don’t know it yet, too Barbara--”

“Excuse me!”

“--no, no, did it last time, hell no. _Perfect_!”

He passed the record over to Rachel, who grinned as she slid it out of its protective sleeve.

Mercedes grabbed the tv remote to use as a mic and jumped up to stand on the vanity chair as the first notes began. It was one of their old standbys, Alicia Keys’ ‘Superwoman.’ You really can’t go wrong with lyrics like _All my sisters coming together saying yes i will, yes I can._ And it was exactly what they all needed just then.

They jumped on the bed and spun around together and sang and sang and sang. As the song ended, they struck their best diva poses and then they dissolved into happy noises, and flopped on the bed. 

Mercedes’ purple cell phone vibrated, and she looked down at the screen.

“It’s Puck. Again.”

“Here, let me take that.” Kurt grabbed the phone with a sigh, “What do you want, Puckerman?”

“I need details. Is everyone naked and pillow-fighting yet? Not you, Hummel. Keep your pants _on_. No offense.”

It was Rachel’s turn to grab for the phone.

“Goodbye, Noah.”

They could hear Puck still shouting suggestions as Rachel pressed the END button, and all three friends collapsed against each other laughing.

Rachel’s dads knocked and stuck their heads around the door to offer snacks on trays.

Mercedes let Rachel and Kurt elbow each other to get at the sandwiches and pop. She didn’t think if all the tots in the world were presented to her she’d feel like eating them right now, but her friends were helping her feel better. So much better.

“Hey, Mercedes, there are Doritos!”

“What kind?”

“Explosive Cheddar?”

“Just as long as they’re not Cool Ranch. No me gusta.”

Kurt patted her arm, scrunched in next to her on the foot of the bed, and offered her a handful of the bright orange chips with a napkin.

The record finished.

“What’s next?”

“I’ll be right back.” Mercedes - handing the chips back to Kurt - slid off the bed and ran down the hall to Mr. Berry and Mr. Berry’s room and knocked. 

“Mr. Berry, can we borrow Elton?”

“Well,” Hiram said, “This must be some occasion. Elton, you say?”

“Yes, sir.”

He got the record from the entertainment center and handed it over. “Treat it with care.”

“We will.”

Mercedes padded back down the hall in her socked feet, holding the record reverently. This record was autographed by Sir Elton himself and was let out of their room rarely. 

Opening the door to Rachel’s room she went straight for the player. “No lie, we all need this tonight.”

She put the record on the player, flipped the switch to send it spinning, and fit the needle in the second groove on the vinyl. Elton’s voice came belting out with the beginning lyrics of ‘I’m Still Standing.’

Mercedes grinned at the surprise on both Kurt and Rachel’s faces. They only broke out Elton in special cases but seeing as what was going on in all their love lives, school lives, and their lives in general right now, they could use some sparkle.

“Pick up your hairbrushes, ladies.”

Rachel saluted and popped up off the bed. 

“I think we should let the actual queen sing to the queen first,” Kurt said.

“Shut it, Hummel, and get off your ass.”

“Yes’m.”

They moved back and forth as one, a routine they’d had since who knows when, and sang at the top of their lungs. Smiling, Mercedes felt herself let go just a bit. Kurt bumped her shoulder on one side as she and Rachel bumped hips on the other. 

As the record closed out, appropriately with ‘The Retreat’, Rachel’s pure white Princess phone rang.

Kurt reached it first. “I don’t believe it. The fool actually doesn’t think you’d have Caller ID.” He lifted the receiver. “Puckerman. Yes, we’re all naked. Me especially.”

Rachel and Mercedes could hear Puck yelling from where they were sitting. Mercedes smacked Kurt on the leg. 

“What’s he saying?”

Kurt covered the receiver with his hand. “Something about his eyes, his eyes.” 

Mercedes and Rachel fell back against the pillows laughing hard. Kurt waved his hand at them, and they hid behind their hands.

“Yes, Puck, I’m still here. Naked. Without pants. You have a nice night, too.”

“Oh, oh, oh,” Mercedes giggled grabbing her side. “Oh, my gawwwwwwd, Kurt. You _know_ damn well that boy is freaking out right now.”

“He’ll be fine. There is no one on the planet more secure in his own masculinity. I just couldn’t help myself.”

Mercedes saw Rachel touch the record player and then look at them.

“What if this is one of the last nights we have like this?”

“It won’t be. We have a whole lifetime ahead of us of successes and falling short and building each other back up.” Kurt linked arms with the girls.

Mercedes looked at her two best friends and thought about all their shared moments.

“It’s what we do.”

“How long, though?” Rachel moved over to sit on the bench in front of her vanity mirror. “I mean, we say that now, but we’re seventeen--”

“Eighteen, thank you very much,” Kurt interjected.

“--and what do we know? We _say_ that now, but the next thing we know it’s our five-year class reunion and we come back, and we see each other there and don’t know each other anymore.”

“Breathe, girl,” Mercedes said. Walking over, she placed her hand over Rachel’s.

“We won’t let that happen. We _won’t._ ”

They didn’t see Kurt move back toward the record player, until they heard Diana Ross.

Kurt tossed Rachel her round hairbrush and Mercedes the remote control, and they took their places.

_If you need me, call me  
No matter where you are, no matter how far  
Just call my name, I’ll be there in a hurry  
On that you can depend and never worry_

The Princess phone rang again as the notes died out on the 45 and, laughing, Mercedes picked it up.

“Puck, NO,” and slammed the receiver back down again.

And they kept right on singing and dancing and laughing and just plain enjoying each other.

Eventually, they ran out of music they hadn’t sung together recently, so they brushed teeth, put the hairbrushes to their specific purpose, and found places to lie down.

Mercedes tossed and turned in her Jackson 5 sleeping bag. Not even the comfort of childhood on all sides could settle her thoughts into line and fade back into her head. Maybe her weave had finally invaded her brain along with Sam Evans. 

And then Rachel’s small voice came from the bed.

“Mercedes?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m scared of losing Finn.”

“I know you are.”

“You shouldn’t be. He loves you,” Kurt said from his spot on the floor.

“We all layin’ here pretending to be sleepin’?”

“Pretty much,” Rachel said. “What’re you scared of, Mercedes?”

“Lots of things right now. You, Kurt?”

“Losing Blaine. Losing myself,” he answered.

“Me, too,” both girls said. 

“You guys love Blaine, too?”

They giggled softly. Mercedes leaned up on her arm. She could see Rachel’s outline from the streetlights shining in through those filmy curtains of hers. Didn’t make sense to have curtains like that but what did she know.

“Got room up there, Rach?”

“Yeah.”

Mercedes climbed up with a quick ‘shove over’ and snuggled in next to Rachel. 

“C’mon, Kurt,” Rachel called out.

“Oh, if I must. But, if you tell Blaine that I’ve been sleeping with girls …. well, he’d just laugh.”

“Everyone would,” Mercedes said and felt a small jab in her side as Kurt climbed in the bed beside her.

“We’re bigger than we were last year,” Rachel said, scooting over. 

“I should stop eating cheesecakes,” mumbled Kurt, as he settled his head against Mercedes’ shoulder.

Mercedes felt warm and safe, sandwiched by her besties. “Hush, both of you. We’re perfect. See, we’re a perfect fit. Maybe, just no more cheesecakes _after_ this.”

Rachel broke in, “There should always be cheesecakes. And Finns, and Blaines... and Sams.”

Kurt squeezed her from behind, “and Sams.”

“You guys...”

“Spill,” Kurt said. “We know something is going on. So tell.”

“It’s nothing,” she said. She’d convinced herself or thought she had. Or maybe not. “I don’t know what it is.”

“I know what it is,” Kurt said. 

“What? You know what?” Mercedes asked. 

“Mercedes Jones, how many Sam Evanses do you think will walk into your life?”

“Kurt’s right. I’m sure Shane is a very nice person, but he just doesn’t understand you the way Sam does. I was there, at Prom, remember? I saw the way he looked at you, before you even knew. And I know you thought it was a secret, but you wear your heart on your sleeve.”

“I don’t wanna hurt anyone.”

Kurt cocked his head to the side and looked at her.

“I think you’re hurting you more than anyone else right now, Mercedes,” Rachel said.

“Are you afraid Sam will leave again?” Kurt tucked his forehead into the crook of Mercedes’ neck, just so she couldn’t pull away.

Rachel maneuvered to face Mercedes. “Be honest.”

Mercedes swallowed hard, and remembered the lyrics to all those old songs they sang tonight; bravery, truth, friendship, survival, love. It was all there. 

“It was just supposed to be a summer fling. I told myself it was just a summer fling. After he left.”

“What did you think _before_ he left?”

“What do you think _now_?

She thought of Alicia, and Diana, and Elton, and Etta, and MJ, and her grandmother, and she remembered to be strong and brave.

“I’m my best _me_ when I’m with him. With Sam. I feel special and proud and _me_.”

She took a deep, steadying, breath. “I don’t think I really let myself feel hurt, or deal with the hurt, when he left.”

“Go on.” Rachel encouraged.

“But since he came back, it’s all I can think about.” She closed her eyes picturing Sam’s face.   
“When I’m not thinking about his lips and the way his nose crinkles when he looks at me.”

“Oh boy, does Sam have nice lips.”

“Kurt, focus! We’re talking about Mercedes!”

“Sorry, I’ll be good,” and he smoothed his hand across Mercedes’ back.

When it got quiet again: “We sang together. During Michael week.”

Kurt did a little wiggle, but kept silent.

“And.. we kissed.”

Rachel squealed, but quickly put her own hand over her mouth and nodded for Mercedes to continue.

Mercedes put her hand to her heart, then to her lips. “It felt so good in that moment. It felt like a dream.”

“And now?”

“And now, it’s back to reality.” She shrugged, as if it didn’t matter.

Rachel was still watching her eyes. “But, Mercedes. With Sam, you can have both. The dream _and_ the reality.”

She closed her eyes on the tears she wouldn’t let fall.

“I love you guys. What would I do without you?”

Rachel reached around to hug both Mercedes and Kurt. “You’ll never have to worry about that.”

Kurt softy hummed ‘Ain’t No Mountain High Enough’ as they fell asleep. With the whole world ahead of them to conquer.

Together.


	2. Dudes don't have slumber parties because we're dudes, damnit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Again, Co-Authored with Jules1278: This is the boys' pov of that particular Friday Night.

Sam Evans lay on his bed in the Hummel-Hudson guest room. It’d been converted the day he’d come back into Lima and he owed them something big for taking him in, but that was the last thing on his mind right now. George Jones was twanging away in his ears and he was tossing a baseball up in the air and catching it. It was his own way of thinking. He couldn’t play on his guitar - he’d tried and his hands hadn’t wanted to work right - so, this is what he did.

The ball arced and a hand shot out and nabbed it.

“Hey!” Sam protested, pulling his left ear bud out.

“Dude. You’ve been in here ever since school got out. It’s like seven on a Friday night. It’s sad,” Finn said, dropping the baseball back on Sam’s chest.

“Yeah, so?”

“I get it, but you gotta get off that bed and do something else.”

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Write a song or something.”

The doorbell rang and then the sound of a thousand elephants thundered on the steps down towards Sam’s basement bedroom.

“Puck,” they said in unison. 

“Ladies,” Puck said, pushing by Finn and tackling Sam on the bed.

“Get _off_!”

“C’mon, Biebs, time to quit sitting around crying into your panties.”

“Puck -” Finn began.

“Yeah?”

“Shut _up_.” Sam and Finn said in unison. 

Laughing, Puck rolled off the bed. “Girls, you’re both great big girls in big fat pink panties.”

“You have some sort of whack fascination with panties,” Sam observed.

“Yeah,” Puck sighed dramatically. “Yeah, I really do.”

Rolling his eyes, Sam scooted up and checked his phone again. Nope, nothing still.

“Let’s go to the batting cages or something. Get out of the house.”

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face and nodded at his friends.

“Yeah, that sounds good.”

Grabbing his bat bag, he tucked his phone in his back pocket only to have it nabbed by Puck.

“Puck. Stay away from my back pocket.”

“Just seeing what you and Mama Mercedes are sexting to each other.”

“PUCK, gimme my phone,” Sam said feeling his face going red. 

“Ugh, ‘sweet dreams,’ Sam? Really? Fuck, you are so _boring_.” Puck began typing with his thumbs and Finn reached over and grabbed the phone, handing it back to Sam.

“Let’s go,” Finn said. 

“We’re taking your jeep, Hudson. Low on fuel in my girl.”

“Sure,” Finn replied climbing the steps. 

Sam climbed into shotgun as a steady stream of nonsense dribbled out of Puckerman’s mouth and he leaned his head back on the rest. 

“Man, you ever get tired of talking?”

Puck stopped short with a puzzled look on his face, and Finn who had just jumped in the driver’s seat busted out laughing. 

“No, he doesn’t. Trust me. We’ve been friends since we could crawl and he never shuts up.”

“I can,” Puck said with a mock pout. “I just don’t want to deprive you dudes of all my charm and wit.”

“Your mom loves my wit,” Sam said. Finn high-fived him. 

“Dicks,” Puck said, punching Sam in the shoulder.

“Your mom loves it--”

“DON’T SAY IT.” Puck covered his head with his hands and rolled around the backseat dramatically.

“--when I mow her lawn,” Finn finished.

“That’s worse, dude.”

“I know, right?” Finn chuckled. 

“That was way harsh, Tai,” Puck grumbled from the backseat. 

“Who’s Tai?” Sam asked.

“ _Clueless_ is the Puckinator’s favorite movie, but this conversation does not leave this Jeep.”

They let it slide that he’d called himself the Puckinator. _Again_.

“You want world peace, too, Puck?”

“He’d have a shot at Miss Congeniality that way,”

“I’d kick ass in the evening gown competition,” Puck said. “I have great legs for high heels.”

“Dude,” Sam said, swiveling in his seat. “When did you have heels on?”

“Every man should wear heels at least once. It helps me understand women better.” 

Finn and Sam eyed each other and got ready for one of Noah Puckerman’s great speeches.

“Seriously, I had Mono freshman year, and all I did was watch Oprah with my mom on the couch. I learned so much about women _and_ myself. Did you know that I act out due to the missing presence of an older man in my life? So if either of you dudes wants to apply...”

“What about Bieste? She’s like a male figure,” Finn offered.

“Shannon Bieste is a lady, and has moves you two could only dream of.”

“Puck, is there a woman in the mid-west whose moves you _don’t_ know?”

“Actually, I try not to limit myself to any specific region. Now if you pansies are done with the sissy feelings talk, I’m ready to hit some balls.”

“You brought up Oprah, not us.”

“Oprah is a Legend, an Institution. And I bet she could kick both your asses in baseball any day of the week and twice on whatever day this is.”

“Friday,” Finn and Sam said together.

They stayed out at the batting cages long enough for Sam’s arms to ache satisfyingly, and to give his mind the break it was craving. 

It’s not like he could get any thinking done with Puckerman running around and ragging on him and Finn. It was exactly what he needed, whether the other guys knew it or not. And he kind of figured that they did.

Sweat dripped from under his cap, and he tilted it back to wipe off his brow with his forearm as they packed up their bats. 

And when they got home, Puck might have started calling the girls, and Sam might have considered joining in.

Then there was sleep. Blissful dream-filled sleep.

In the morning, Sam snagged a mug of coffee and leaned against the counter as Kurt came ambling into the kitchen. 

“Hey,” Sam said.

“Hey, yourself,” Kurt answered, helping himself to a cup of coffee. 

Sam watched as Kurt walked to the fridge, got creamer, and poured it into his cup. Kurt leaned on the counter mirroring Sam’s stance.

“How’s Blaine’s um..” Sam said pointing at his eye and waving.

“Oh, his eye? It’s doing better. Thanks for asking.”

“Sure.”

“He’s still got the patch, though. So no one, especially Finn, can help making Pirate jokes. But that helps, too.”

Sam laughed. “That’s _Captain_ Blaine Anderson, to you.”

“Exactly.” Kurt nodded, and looked closely at Sam. “How are you doing?”

“Fine, I’m fine,” Sam answered. He cocked his eyebrow at Kurt wondering what he was getting at. “Is there something I should know?”

“You’re not getting anything out of me about Mercedes but I will say that putting her name up in lights was a pretty ingenious move, Sam.”

“Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?” Straightening up, he sat the cup he’d been cradling in his hands on the counter. “It wasn’t a _move_ though.”

“Like calling last night wasn’t a move? You boys do know Rachel has Caller ID, right?”

 _Busted_.

“I wanted -” Sam began. “I don’t know. I just wanted to say good night.”

In one movement, Kurt picked up Sam’s cup and his own and turned around to the sink. “Don’t push her right now.” 

Turning back around and seeing the look on Sam’s face, he held up a finger and added, “I know that’s not what you’re trying to do, that you can’t help how you feel and you want her to feel the same way, but she’s been through a lot. I like you, and I like you _for_ her, but she’s my friend first.”

“It’s probably good she thought I was Puck last night, then.” Sam laughed a little. “But at least I got to hear her voice.” When this was greeted with silence he carried on. “And I get what you’re saying. I _know_ what she’s going through, and the last thing I want to do is make this harder on her.”

“Then let her figure out on her own that she needs you. Keep being sweet and charming, because she needs that, too, but part of that is letting her just _be_ , a little. Until she realizes what she wants.”

Sam scrubbed his hands over his face for the thousandth time since all of this started and nodded. “Okay, okay, I can do that. I can do that for her.” He suddenly grinned. “So, wait. What did you guys do last night? Were there pillow fights?”

Kurt rolled his eyes as they heard Puck slide into the kitchen sock-footed across the floor and grab the refrigerator door for balance.

“Are we gettin’ to the good stuff, yet? I didn’t want to interrupt the vagina fest going on in here, but it sounds like it’s about to get juicy. The kind of vagina fest I can get behind. If you know what I mean.” He grabbed a long john and stuffed half of it in his mouth.

“We always know what you mean, Puckerman. What, you didn’t get enough mental images from our phone call last night? Or did Blaine text you the photo I sent him?”

Puck pulled his phone from his back pocket, “Fortunately not, he’s too busy captaining The Black Opal,” Sam and Puck exchanged a no-look high-five, “but I did get this sweet pic of Beth from Shelby. Take a look at my best girl.”

Sam looked over Puck’s shoulder and saw the little face staring back at him from the screen and thought of golden Grammys, little babies with cocoa skin, and maybe someday. _Yeah, someday._

“So, what’d you girls really do last night?” Puck asked, looking up from Beth’s face. 

“Hey. Kurt is _not_ a girl.”

“Well, _you_ are, Hudson. So nice of you to join us.” Puck offered Finn the other half of his donut.

Finn grimaced. “I usually try to stay away from things that have already been in your mouth.”

“Didn’t stop you from sucking face with Quinn.”

“Dude, you had _my_ sloppy seconds, not the other way around.”

“Oh, yeah...” Puck said.

Sam handed over a raspberry filled jelly donut - what? they were Finn’s favorite - and dusted his hands off on his jeans. There was no way he was getting into anything about Quinn Fabray with this bunch. They’d _all_ dated her. Well, except for Kurt.

“Thanks, man.”

“She’s beautiful, Puckerman,” Kurt said. “How you managed to make that perfect little baby is beyond me. I’ll credit Quinn for her lovely skin and bone structure.”

“What?” Puck asked, looking confused.

“She’s pretty,” Finn explained.

“Oh, yeah, she is.”

Silence filled the room save for Puck thumbing across his keypad. Sam leaned over to see who he was texting and snorted out a laugh.

“What?” Finn asked leaning over.

Kurt, too, looked and rolled his eyes. “Why is the rum all gone? Seriously? I’ll have you know that Blaine quit drinking after that last trip to the...”

When Kurt stopped suddenly, they all looked up at him.

“Last trip to the where, Hummel?” Puck asked.

“Nowhere. Nothing,” Kurt said, and turned to leave the room.

“No, no, no, young man,” Puck said, reaching out to grab Kurt’s collar. “Spit it out, girlfriend.”

“Dude, eating here,” Finn said around a mouthful of donut.

“Hey, if our man Kurt is getting some action we, as his brothers in arms, should know about this,” Puck explained.

“Dude,” Finn said. “It’s like knowing your sister is having sex.”

“Or your mom,” Puck said.

Sam’s head swiveled back and forth as he listened, laughing. 

“Keep my mom out of it, Puckerman.”

“Yes, please do, considering my dad enters into that equation, too,” Kurt pointed out.

“The what?”

“Suddenly really glad my family is out of state,” Sam added.

“Nights and weekends are free in my cell plan,” Puck wiggled his eyebrows.

“Ugh, Puckerman, stay away from my mom,” Sam said.

“She’s hot, dude.”

Sam slugged Puck hard in the arm.

“What? You dudes are dating pretty much all of the hot chicks at our school. I have to look somewhere.”

“What about Lauren?” Finn asked. “What happened to her anyway?”

“Zizes? I was too much man for her, obviously,” Puck said as he snapped his phone shut.

Finn reached over and grasped Puck’s shoulder, and Puck rolled into it and shoved back. 

“So, Kurt, what did you and Captain Jack get up to? I’m a former stripper. You can tell me,” Sam said with his best serious preacher confessional voice. “Was glitter involved?”

“Sam Evans.”

“Did you tell your dad that you were going to the Dairy Queen?”

“Gives new meaning to twist cone if you know what I mean,” Puck said.

“We always know what you mean,” the other three said in unison.

“Were there sprinkles?” Sam asked as Kurt started walking out of the room. They followed.

“Did you get your cone double-dipped?”

“PUCKERMAN!” Finn yelled. “That is my _brother_.”

“Finn, it’s the eternal love story. When a pirate falls in love.” Sighing, he clasped his hands to his chest and then wiped an imaginary tear from his eye. 

Kurt, in an uncharacteristic display of crudity, gave Puck the finger.

They all laughed. 

“That wasn’t what you said to me last night. What about all that nudnicity talk. You gonna be a prude now?”

“He’s home from the hospital, right?” Sam asked.

“Yes, he is,” Kurt answered, pointedly ignoring Puck’s question. 

“Let’s pick up some rum and go see the one-eyed ooompah loompah. Cheer him up.”

“No rum,” Kurt said.

“Damn,” Puck muttered. “Why is the rum always gone? And we’re gonna get that story out of you on the way over. Inside a moving vehicle and all that.”

“Sam, can I ask you to drive over with me? Puck can ride with Finn.”

“Curses, foiled again,” Puck said, wrapping an arm around Kurt’s neck and giving him a noogie. 

Puck’s phone chimed.

“K, dudes, we gotta make this quick. My man Artie needs me to play travelling guitar man in his never-ending quest to woo Sugar. But don’t think I’ve forgotten you still have a story to tell, Backstreet Boy. It’ll happen, just wait.”

“I won’t hold my breath,” Kurt shot right back.

Sam followed the guys out of the kitchen as Finn shook his head.

“Gotta love ‘em, right?” Finn asked.

“Or you could give Puck gas money and then make a run for it,” Sam offered.

“I like the way you think, Evans.”

“I got ten bucks for the cause.”


End file.
